Idle Fancy
by Lynny M
Summary: Skunk considers commiting treason against President Boon. In the meantime, Lamp is still his annoying friend. A friendship fic, perhaps? One shot.


An Idle Fancy

Author's Notes: This started as a serious, melancholy look at Skunk's roll as the treasonous Minister of State in _Metropolis_. Then I got to talking with my friend, Emma, and it turned into a comedic romance between Skunk and Lamp. I think it had something to do with a comic strip featuring a pregnant Skunk. Anyway, my point is, you can really tell where this story does a 180. I probably shouldn't even post it, but…eh, what the hell.

For **Emma** – like everything else I write.

-

He was an extraordinarily ugly man.

Beyond the endless glass wall was the eastern side of the city, and Skunk surveyed it with his arms folded behind his back and his stance secure. He was uncomfortably cold, but outside was sure to be much worse. Snow fell in flurries and frost was growing on the walks. The core of the Capitol may very well have been heated, but standing so near the picture window he could feel no warmth.

God, he was ugly — staring at his reflection only confirmed what he knew already. His eyes were at once sunken, bulging, and droopy (a dashing combination, no?); Cheekbones high, lips, almost non-existent. The bottom one had a tendency to push out, even _in_ its non-existence. His nose was a proverbial button. And he had almost no color to his skin, and it wasn't a pretty no-color, either — it was much like watery Elmer's Glue, pasty, white, and running blue in a few awkward places. He was _so_ ugly.

Unlike the Duke. Oh, wasn't that the truth! The Duke was handsome, articulate, and so glamorous. The Duke was confident and when he spoke he always knew what he was saying, and even when he shouldn't know he could always save the moment because he was so damn good. How many times had Skunk fumbled in posture because of the Duke's approving gaze, or suddenly become speechless when he found himself receiving a handshake, as if he were something worth the Duke's time? More than a few, certainly.

Outside, streams of car lights poured and wove, and gazing down, he could just make out the run of the highways. How complex they were. Seeing them, especially from the behind the glass where it was gray and dreary, distressed him.

He had never fully agreed with Boon's Administration, not on all levels. It hadn't mattered at first, even though he couldn't deny that it helped to be likened toward your boss. Even if you weren't, it was still your job, and he hadn't had a problem with that.

Until…

Those lights were so bright! They stung his eyes.

Overthrow the administration? Yes, he had the power to do so. Two wars and one city under his belt; he had the power. Well, almost. If he had the Duke, if the Duke would just wink at him once more from the other end of the banquet table, he could do it. Hell, he _would_ do it, for the Duke.

But it was scary, wasn't it? Yes. Scary even for a man who had overseen a bit of wartime. To pull mutiny on Boon, and not succeed? And yet, what if it were successful? There's your dilemma.

And time was running out. Oh, poo. He watched.

"Some weather, innit?"

Skunk whirled on one boot. Bug-eyed, he stared. Lamp was standing a few feet away, smiling sarcastically and idiotically, and Skunk had to turn away. Lamp held the lovely title of Intelligence Director, and just happened to also be the President's advisor. Bit of a kissass, Skunk thought. He also happened to be something of a friend. Sort of. His chatter went on.

"––very late. What is it? Midnight? What are you doing here, anyway? All the work is over with."

"Nothing." Skunk said. He cleared his throat. "Nothing."

"Hmm." Lamp said, like he understood.

For a while, they both stared out the window. Skunk figured they saw very different images.

Oh, of all the nasty things! To betray Lamp, as well. He couldn't rightly say if Lamp mattered, or how he felt about it either way. But for some reason it hurt to think of it. Not for any other reason than Lamp's unusual friendship––the man had taken him to dinner more than once, and for countless casual drinks, and, well, also, other things...

In his mind, Skunk rolled his eyes.

Lamp put a chummy hand on his shoulder. "It's late, ya dolt! What are you looking at?"

"Just the city. That's all."

"Are you ok?"

What a ludicrous question!

"Just thinking, Lamp."

"Wanna take a car home with me?"

Skunk gave up. "Yes!" He said. "Yes, I would like to take a car home with you."

"No need to snap, sweetheart."

"Shut up."

They walked together to the 10th floor lobby, where they proceeded to bundle up for the harsh outdoor weather. Skunk pulled his hat down extra-hard over his head so the wind wouldn't blow it off. Lamp wore a lumpy brown hat and a beige trench coat, which Skunk thought looked retarded. They rode the elevator down to the 49th Avenue straightaway.

Snow continued to fall in frenzied spirals. Lamp dug around in his pockets. "Well, damn." He said good-naturedly. "I left my pass in the flashcube building! Silly me."

"Fuck you." Said Skunk. He began to trudge through the snow. Knowing Lamp, this was probably planned, and even if it wasn't, it was just like him to forget a crucial item like a car pass.

"Hey! Wait up, buddy!"

Lamp followed just behind him. Skunk was seething. It was six awful blocks to his apartment, and he dreaded every step. The snow turned to black mush under his boots.

He knew he could pull the trigger on Boon. It was a matter of two things: timing, and Duke Red. If the time was right, if the military was balanced politically, if The Duke of Red would support him in any tiny way he could, then Skunk could pull the trigger. Blam. Blow the fatty's brains right out. It would be the coup of the century! Forget the proletariats in Zone One! The Duke had…had…well, damn it, he had the world in the palm of his hand, and if he could just step up, if he could just have the throne, then things would turn around. They could stop worrying about petty politics, and for once have the world in the palms of progress and power.

But what about Lamp? Could he do the same to Lamp?

Right now, as he was fumbling through the snow because of his friend's idiotic forgetfulness, he thought it wouldn't be _too_ hard.

Then he tripped over a pile of icy black powder and fell face forward onto the concrete. "God damn it!" He grabbed at his ankle. "I think I broke something!"

Lamp pulled him to his feet. "If you had broken something, you'd be screaming your head off." He insisted.

"Well, it's at least twisted! And I've got four more blocks to cover!"

"Why don't you come to my place?"

"_What_?? I don't want to get all the way there and then find out whatever evil scheme you've got planned in that torture chamber you call a living room!"

"My apartment is right over there." Lamp pointed with a gloved finger.

"What?"

"It's right across the street. See? The Tower of Carraway."

"I…you…" Skunk was speechless in his anger.

"Come on. It'll be nice. I promise."

Lamp hooked an arm under his shoulder and led him to the crosswalk. "What are friends for?" He said.

Skunk couldn't argue.

-

END

...I know, I know. I have problems.


End file.
